


The Mission

by orchidbreezefc



Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel 616, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Dancing, Espionage, Fancy dinners, High Class Events, Humor, M/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4469996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidbreezefc/pseuds/orchidbreezefc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Serval Industries is having a billionaire gala, and Remy and Pietro (with help and super spy equipment from Doug and Warlock) are tasked with a very important stealth mission regarding one of the guests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mission

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [The Mission](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5424224) by [orchidbreezefc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidbreezefc/pseuds/orchidbreezefc), [tunahiddleston](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunahiddleston/pseuds/tunahiddleston)



> A little oneshot I wrote because even I get tired of writing X-teens once in a blue moon. :P And to diversify my fic profile a little bit. Actually I was hoping to use this to tide people over until I finished the next installment of Both Ways, but I ended up finishing that before this. :T So who even knows what I'm going to do now, but you'll have this fic at least until I work it out.
> 
> Warning for alcohol, and that the surprise character I'm sure is one upsetting to many people, but don't worry, only bad things happen to him.

If there’s one thing Pietro can honestly say he hadn’t expected from tonight, it’s how effortlessly at ease Remy is in a tuxedo. They’ve always made Pietro feel itchy, somehow; it’s not that he’s uncomfortable with formality, it’s just that he’s restless. 

So Pietro has the posture but an intense discomfort, meanwhile Remy doesn’t have formal bearing so much as he has _slink_ , which somehow is just as effective. It completely escapes Pietro how Remy does it, has a slouch still but moves with perfect grace, looks completely at home at a Serval Industries billionaire gala.

He's been eyeing Remy too long perhaps, because he takes notice. Gambit slips away from his group, giving an excuse in a deliciously low murmur that Pietro can hear through his earpiece, which he might reiterate that he has one, and he can hear Remy, and there's no reason for him to come over here just to talk. 

Did he say delicious?

"Mr. Maximoff," Remy purrs, swiping a martini glass from a caterer so smoothly the man doesn't even notice, and to Pietro's surprise offering it to him. Pietro takes it and regards it--salt, olive, expensive gin--deems it acceptable, and takes a drink. 

He tries not to melt. "Smooth," he manages. 

Remy grins and takes his post beside Pietro. "Heard anything yet, cher?"

Pietro still has no idea when Remy has gotten the idea that they're close enough to warrant that term of endearment, god knows it was nothing he did. He takes another sip, using the cover to nod at a nondescript blond man in black and white; when Remy follows his gaze nonchalantly, he narrows his eyes in recognition. 

"Our mark, I presume?" Remy says, casually doing up his cuffs. Pietro nods seriously and finishes his drink, then hands it to the next server without glancing at her. 

"I can infiltrate the group," Pietro offers, turning away and gazing off at a different part of the crowd.

"Mm, non. My skills may be required. Douglas, talk some sense into my boy here."

Pietro glares at Remy, but Doug's voice comes clear in his ear: "Probably right, Quicksilver. This is a two-man mission."

Pietro taps his foot rapidly as he watches Lorna on the other side of the floor approach Doug and talk seriously to him. Cypher nods impatiently and waves her off--"Honestly, like I can't do my job--bossiest team leader I've ever--Lorna agrees though. One to make the hit, another to cover."

"Lorna ought to stay out of our missions," Pietro says irritably, crossing his arms. "Someone has to schmooze for Snow, and she's the best candidate if we're working."

"Remy can work and schmooze," Remy says with a wink. "Your boy's good at multitasking."

"We are not each others' boys," Pietro replies, and nearly jumps when Gambit straightens his suit for him.

"Too much arm crossing, cher," Gambit says. "Bad for the fabric."

Pietro seethes. "Let's just go after the target before--damn!" He looks over the floor again, and the mark is lost in the dance floor. "He was in familiar ground! Dammit, Gambit, he was talking to old X-Factor, I _knew_ them. I had an in!"

"Oops," Remy says in a suspiciously unapologetic tone. "Well, we'd have stuck out like stung thumbs pushing our way across like that--he's on the dance floor now, easier to approach. That is, should you do me the honor...?"

He holds out a hand. Pietro looks at it in surprise, and then up at Remy's easy, unruffled smile. He wants to say no. He wants to say _yes_.

...He agrees for the mission. 

Remy leads him off to the dance floor and in a flawlessly steady movement pulls Pietro in against himself. He has a way of taking Quicksilver's breath away even in actions that Pietro can see coming, which is all of them.

"I want to lead," Pietro hisses, flipping their hands.

"'Course you do, bossy britches. Only problem is"--Remy flips their hands again and drags Pietro's hand up to his shoulder--"You got the stealth of a dead possum."

"You don't need stealth to dance." Pietro firmly wraps his arm around Remy's waist.

"Sure as hell need it to dance your way over to a target. Or leastways a bit of flair." He spins Pietro and dips him, giving his most winning smile to Pietro's suddenly red face. Other dancers give looks of approval, and definitely a few of unconcealed attraction toward Remy.

Pietro hardly notices, distracted by keeping his balance and the feel of Remy's strong hands and the line of his legs and the intensity of his hypnotic red eyes--doesn't Remy actually have some sort of hypnotism powers? Pietro forgets. Maybe that's why he's such a damn wreck.

"Gambit's right," says Doug in their ears, startling them both. They straighten up and Pietro spares a hand from Remy's shoulder to adjust his own bow tie; Remy's brown skin flushes. "Better let him lead, Quick."

"I loathe this spy equipment," Pietro mumbles, settling back into perfect dance posture.

"Don't tell Warlock that, cher, you'll break his li'l heart."

"I was _asked_ to provide secret spy services, may I remind you," Cypher says, affronted. He has a way of conveying his offense in a way that gives one the sense that he is a priceless artifact and you have tracked mud on his floor. Or maybe it’s just the tuxedo.

"And we love 'em, ami, don't you listen to Grumpsilver over here," Gambit says reassuringly, spinning them in a circle when Pietro scoffs. "Now," he says, steadying out their movement, "them aerial cameras of yours online?"

Quicksilver watches over Remy's shoulder as Cypher, with a casual-looking but in reality restraining arm linked through Danger's, puts his goggles on and plugs them into Warlock on his other side. "Crystal clear," Doug says through the headset. “'Lock, could you--? Thanks. Your mark is one hundred thirty-five degrees from you, Remy."

The dancing pair stops. Pietro tries to remember whether it goes clockwise or counter. “Quoi, Douglas?"

“Your seven-thirty," Doug rephrases in a tone of profound suffering. “Backways. Left."

"I see him," Pietro cuts in irritably. "Here." He forcefully grabs Remy and turns them in a half-circle--ignoring Remy's playful "Ooh, cher~"--and points him directly at the mark. "See?" he says, once more loosening his grip on Remy and settling back into a gentle sway in his arms, Remy's arm fitted comfortably around his waist. Wait, comfortably wasn't the word he wanted to--oh, to hell with it. 

"Let's go, darlin'," Remy hums. He leads them into a smooth foxtrot-like move. Pietro is able to follow easily of course, but he’s surprised at how easily the crowd adapts. He forgets sometimes how accomplished Remy is in missions of stealth.

Or not. "You're going the wrong way!" Pietro growls, trying to tug Remy on target from the non-leading position. 

"No, I ain't. Cypher, make a note for Snow to pay this caterer handsomely."

"What are you--" Pietro begins almost breathlessly, before Remy deliberately half trips and they stumble mightily into the caterer, who spills her entire tray of drinks onto their target's chest.

Pietro pulls Remy up and steadies him. Gambit offers his broadest smile to their sopping mark. "Havok!" he roars, clapping him on the back. "Long time, no see! How are you, ami?" Pietro struggles to keep a straight face. 

"Wet," Alex spits, "thanks to you. Watch where you're going."

"Sorry," Pietro cuts in, and Alex notices him for the first time with a surprised widening and then angry narrowing of the eyes. "Fast feet. My partner here must have had trouble keeping up."

Rather than take offense, Remy slings his arm over Pietro's shoulder, still beaming. "Mon bien-aimé Pietro, always one step ahead, eh? Enjoy the gala, Summers."

"We'll say hello to Lorna for you," Pietro adds, at which Remy has to literally bite his tongue to keep from laughing. 

They manage to contain their laughter all the way over to where the rest of their team is gathered eagerly, at which point they all take one look at each other and collapse into laughter.

"I admit," Pietro says to Remy through snickering, "it was a good idea to make this awful event into a mission."

"Any of y'all tell Snow and you're dead," Remy warns, "and Remy's looking at you, bots." Still, his smile stays wide.

"Glad to help," Doug replies, throwing an arm over each bot's shoulder.

Lorna, for her part, hasn't looked so happy in weeks. She kisses each of them on the cheek, and really, that's the part that makes it all worth it.

Well. That and the celebratory necking session Remy and Pietro end up having in the elevator.


End file.
